


The Mystery of Magic

by AsgardianHorsemanship



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hogwarts, and that means he can do anything he likes, because Sherlock believes in Sherlock Holmes, don' t read, if you don't believe in Sherlock Holmes, john hates magic, sherlock's mind can overcome anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3372587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsgardianHorsemanship/pseuds/AsgardianHorsemanship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock recieves a cryptic letter about an escaped murderer on the loose, he jumps at the chance of adventure and the hopes of bringing John out of his slump after he left Mary over her past. But what Sherlock finds is something that will completely contradict everything he knows and holds dear to him, can he solve the case of Sirius Black? Potterlock crossover<br/>I have crossed Timelines, so Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts is taking place in modern day instead of 1993 as I feel it would work better than Sherlock being back in the 90s. John has left Mary after finding out about her past and is of course heartbroken, Sherlock is at a loss as to how to handle this so a case is needed. They have hit a dead end concerning Magnussen due to having Mary there anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Post On Sundays

"Sherlock!" Came the voice of Mrs Hudson as she bustled up the stairs. "Sherlock there is a letter for you, oh for goodness sake what now!" She cried as she saw the state of the apartment. Papers crumpled up littered the floor and Sherlock was balancing what looked like a sword across his knee, holding it lightly in his right hand.

"Bored."

"If you even think about shooting my wall again young man! Is that a sword?"

"The wall is safe, for now, as for this." He leapt up out of the seat and twirled it around in his hand. "Exquisite isn't it, there has been a murder done with an English broadsword, so I decided to do some research into using them, the man must have been quite the artist in combat oh yes!" He pointed the sword up to the ceiling with a look of glee on his face before dropping down into his seat with a big sigh and taking out his phone.

'Murderer in medieval re enactments, look for left handed man with long hair and scar down right arm, works at local castle doing displays in combat at arms, arrest immediately. SH' With a beep it was sent to Lestrade and Sherlock went back to his moping.

She gave him a stern look and walked over, muttering about the state of the floor before dropping a letter into his lap. She turned and left as quickly as her rickety hip could manage, pausing in the door way to once again complain about the mess.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson!" He called over her loudly before taking the letter in his hand with great disinterest.

He stroked the rough paper, no, parchment? And turned it over, lifting his hand up into the light and turning it this way and that. The parchment was thick and heavy compared to the modern paper normally used and it peaked his interest ever so slightly. Pursing his lips he took the letter up to his face and sniffed hard, the parchment smelt old and musty. He raked his eyes along the delicate script written upon it, staring intently at the indents it made into the parchment. This was written by a cartridge pen, no, not cartridge, proper ink. He touched the tip of his tongue with his index finger and dragged it across the writing, blurring it slightly before touching his finger to his tongue once more. Ink made for quills, rarely seen or used meaning this was written by someone very old fashioned, rich and ignorant or possibly in denial to workings of the modern world.

He turned it onto its back and looked at the wax seal upon it. A four sectioned crest sat in the middle of the circle made by the stamp, he swiftly took his magnifier from the table beside him and flicked it open, focusing on each section individually. A lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle. How curious. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts as he went through crests of noble families in the United Kingdom. His eyes flickered beneath his lids and his facial muscles twitched unintentionally, his fingers gripping at the parchment and magnifier as he searched through the archives of his mind.

A few seconds passed before he opened his eyes and blinked as though coming out of the darkness and into somewhere light. Nothing he could find in his mind palace matched this crest at all, there were similarities to long standing families, one such as a serpent crest or a lion crest, but nothing of the four or even two together. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding and hooked his thumbnail under the seal with a satisfying snap as it cracked off the parchment. He pulled the letter out ever so delicately and unfolded it, lifting it up into the light. Yet again written by quill and ink, the same delicate writing of someone who had had an incredibly old fashioned and upper class childhood.

_Dear Mr Holmes_

_I am writing to you to ask for your help in a serious matter. I have heard you are the best detective the world has to offer and you have a passion for the strange and unusual. The matter at hand is challenging, incredibly dangerous and baffling to behold, I hope it will not be too much for you._

Sherlock snorted and twirled the paper in his hand. Too much? For me, who does this guy think he is? He looked back to the letter.

 _A convict has escaped from the most high security prison in the United Kin_ gdom and has sworn revenge again _st many people. Not only have our own authorities no leads on how he escaped, but also where he is and what he is going to do. It is believed he is going to take his revenge for his master, a dangerous terrorist of the highest calibre. I cannot give out any more details in this letter in case it is intercepted. We need to find this criminal and stop him before he kills_ again; he is a wanted murderer and one of the most dangerous criminals you _may ever encounter. We need your help if you are who you are said to be, if not then I apologise for wasting your time_.

 _If you are interested please come to Kings Cross station before 11am on September 1st and wait at the column between platforms 9 & 10, lean against the column so you are easily viewable and my associate will meet you and give you all the details you need about this case. Do not be late by even one minute_.

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_.

"FANTASTIC!" Sherlock leapt from his chair in excitement, narrowly avoiding taking off his foot with the sword before he managed to grab it and hastily ran upstairs to John's room.

"John, you'd better be dressed I'm coming in." He hammered down the door and almost broke the knob off before I flung the door open and ran inside. He quickly took in the closed curtains and lifeless figure slumped in the bed before he threw the curtains open. "John wake up, stop moping wake up!"

"Bloody hell Sherlock close the curtains and piss off." John put his arm over his eyes and rolled over to face the wall.

"John get up now!" He leant forwards and grabbed the duvet and pulled it off the bed and onto the floor, almost taking John with it. "You have been in those clothes for 4 days now!"

"I don't bloody care," he sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking as he focused on Sherlock, a letter in one hand, a sword in the other and his dressing gown open, still in his pyjamas, "why have you got a sword…"

"Oh what this, doesn't matter anymore." He tossed it aside and John yelped as it landed pointy end down in the floorboard and stood upright. "This, this matters!" He flourished the letter in John's face.

"Is that a letter?"

"Yes it arrived today!"

"How? There's no post on Sundays?"

"It doesn't matter how! Just read it." He threw it at John and stood there anxiously, bouncing up on the balls of his feet.

John scanned the letter a couple of times, his face creased as he tried to shake off sleep and concentrate. After what was an excruciatingly long time for Sherlock John took the letter away from his face and handed it back before putting his head in his hands and sighing.

"John, please stop moping it is getting unbearable."

"Oh, you know what unbearable means do you!" He took his hands away from his face and sighed heavily. "Sorry, sorry."

"Come on you can't spend the rest of your life shut away in here, there are mysteries to see, cases to solve… Showers to take." He crinkled up his nose and stared down it at John with the look of an expectant puppy. John looked up sternly and felt his face soften, Sherlock was right.

"Ok, oh-kay, I'm up, I'm going to go have a shower."

"We have 3 days until September 1st, so let us research any details we can find hidden in this letter until then. We need to take your mind off of things."

"By things, do you mean Mary."

Sherlock was silent and stared hard at John, as if expecting him to faint.

"I'll be fine Sherlock I am not going to fall over or anything."

"Are you sure?"

"What? Yes, yes I am damned sure I am fine."

"You know, if you want to, um. Talk. We can, well, talk?"

"You, talk about my problems?"

"Silly idea, yes of course sorry no I'll say no more." He looked away, trying to hide the hurt look on his face.

"No, no Sherlock thank you, I just don't know if I am ready to talk about what happened yet."

Sherlock instantly brightened up and bounced from the room, John watched him go and felt like he had just watched a little boy open his Christmas present early.

The three days passed quickly and they were no closer to figuring out who had sent the letter. No schools or families shared the crest on the seal and when Sherlock tried to ask Mycroft about it the call was swiftly disconnected after he was told not to take the case or he could be arrested. That only strengthened Sherlock's resolve and they left a day early to escape Mycroft's spies whom were sure to be waiting for them to leave and would try to stop them.

John woke up at 9am the next morning to find Sherlock sitting in an ugly armchair in the hotel down the road from Kings Cross Station pretending to read a newspaper. But his eyes were blank and John could see he wasn't there at all, he left him to it and showered and got dressed. By the time he was out Sherlock was back and full of life that only came from not sleeping.

"Breakfast first!" John said before Sherlock had even opened his mouth. Sherlock gave him a look that rivalled a kitten being taunted and John had to resist stomping his foot down

"Breakfast or I go home."

"You wouldn't."

"You underestimate me."

"Clearly…"

"I may not be able to make you sleep but I'll be damned if I am going running around chasing a murderer on an empty stomach, and you will do best to do the same or I will shove it down your throat."

Sherlock rolled his eyes before folding the paper between his long fingers and putting it down on the arm of the chair, pushing himself up and stretching.

They came downstairs and into the lobby, turning left to go to the dining hall where a buffet breakfast was being served. John nudged Sherlock on in front of him to join the queue and watched him like a hawk as he piled scrambled eggs, bacon, beans and toast onto his own plate. Sherlock took a two slices of toast, an egg and some bacon and proceeded to prod it and stare wistfully out the window once they had sat down.

"If you don't eat it we won't go."

"Sorry Mother."

John gritted his teeth, he was used to this but it still annoyed him to no end. He managed to get Sherlock to eat half his breakfast before he started pushing it around the plate and finally gave up. He was happily full and Sherlock's eagerness was infecting. It was quarter to 10 by the time they arrived at Kings Cross Station and they had the funny feeling someone (I wonder who, MYCROFT) was following them.

They wandered through the station until they came across the column which had a sign either side for platform 9 and platform 10.

"So, all that is left now is to lean up against this column and look interesting I guess." Sherlock mused, he lifted his hand to touch the cold stone when a voice rang out.

"Touch that column and I'll have you arrested." Mycroft's sinister voice came from behind them, Sherlock's hand paused centimetres away from the stone and he spun round, putting his hands behind his back and looking as innocent as he could.

"Why?"

"Some things are best left unknown Sherlock." Mycroft warned as two men who were obviously from the Secret Service came up and flanked him.

"One who lusts for the pursuit of knowledge, namely me, would argue that point incessantly."

"There will be no arguments here Sherlock, step away from the column."

"Why? Give me a real reason and I might consider it." He looked down at John, trying to convey everything through his eyes, he hoped John knew him well enough to know what he was thinking by now.

"I am not about to divulge information about this countries secrets just to put your brilliant mind at ease."

"Did you hear that John, I think he just called me brilliant." John had to suppress a giggle and Sherlock's mouth curled at the corners as he watched Mycroft try to keep his emotions intact.

"Sherlock now is not the time for games, step away from the column."

"I'll ask you one more time, brother dearest, why? You can't just arrest me for looking at a column or touching it."

"But, brother dearest, I can, remember."

"Oh enough with the theatrics Mycroft what is going on!" John tried to keep his voice low, people seemed completely oblivious as they passed and he didn't want to catch their attention.

"None of your business John, that's what is going on."

John held his tongue as he waited for the signal from Sherlock.

Sherlock stretched one arm up, the other covering his mouth as he yawned. "Well this is terribly boring if you're going to play Mr Mystery Mycroft, you're going to arrest me if I touch the column?"

"Yes." He twitched forwards and caught himself before he took a step and took a deep breath. "Yes, that is correct."

"What if I do this." The emphasis was what John had been waiting for and he stepped backwards just as Sherlock pulled his arm down and leant back onto the column, his eyes catching the clock upon the wall that said it was less than a minute before it was 11 o'clock, it was now or never.

Without warning, his arm went through the stone and he stumbled backwards. John let out a gasp as Sherlock disappeared, his arm flailing about before grabbing John's coat and dragging him backwards through the stone. John cried out and squeezed his eyes shut as he fell into nothingness, his last sight being that of Mycroft lunging at the across the distance between them.

Mycroft hit the hard stone of the column and uttered a whimper of pain. He slammed his hands into the column and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"God damnit!" He shouted out so loudly passers by jumped.

"Sir, what do we do now." One of the agents behind him said quietly.

"We pray for him, there is nothing we can do for Sherlock Holmes now."


	2. The Hogwarts Express

John landed on something soft that made a very unpleasant sound; he opened his eyes to find himself on Sherlock's chest and was instantly shoved off. Sherlock jumped up and dusted off his coat as he looked around, the air was smoky and people were milling around, he turned to see a large scarlet steam engine sitting on the platform. Before he could really get his bearings the whistle blew and the train started to make a lot of noise.

"Mr Holmes! Doctor Watson!" A woman's voice shouted out across the platform and they turned to see an elderly woman rushing towards them. Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent and she was wearing a large pointed hat and dark, _what are they? Robes?_ _Its not Halloween just yet._ Sherlock mused to himself. His mind was still reeling and he forced every thought out of his head so he could take in the vicinity. John was slowly getting up, a mystified expression on his face.

"What… What just happened?"

"Shh be quiet I am thinking." He narrowed his eyes as the woman approached.

"I am correct in assuming you are Mr Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson?" She tried her best not to look too flustered as she stood before them.

"You are correct." Sherlock studied her as John just gawked around; he closed his eyes for a second and willed John to keep still.

"Come with me," she was interrupted by another whistle and a shout of 'last call for the Hogwarts Express', "quickly! We didn't think you were coming."

"Hogwhat?" John snapped out of his dreamy demeanour and started to focus as the woman led them to one of the doors of the train and knocked.

The door to the first compartment opened and she stepped in, standing to one side as they both climbed up and onto the train.

Sherlock looked around the compartment; one or two adults were sitting in plush booths by the windows along with a portly woman filling a trolley with curious looking snacks. Before he could get a good look the woman led them over to a booth by the door through to the next compartment and motioned for them to sit down as the trained lurched and started forwards, chuffing all the while.

"Now I expect you are wondering just what is going on-"

"We just fell through what seems to be a hidden door into a hidden platform on Kings Cross Station and have been intercepted by a woman wearing clothes that were outdated even 100 years ago and a steam engine that has never before been seen in the United Kingdom and doesn't exist. Conspiracy is what is going on here." Sherlock cut across her, trying to keep his expression firm as he suppressed what would probably be considered glee.

"No hidden doors I am afraid Mr Holmes."

"Then just how did we fall through a stone column and end up on a platform that doesn't exist." John tried to sit up straight as he spoke, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Platform '9 ¾'s to be precise." Sherlock muttered.

"Platform 9 ¾'s does exist Doctor Watson, people just can't get onto it."

"Then how did we get onto it?" John replied crossly.

"Magic, Doctor Watson."

Sherlock looked back at the woman from his staring out the window. "Magic?" He scoffed.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"I see, ok. Mycroft you can come out now, very funny what are you really hiding?" He looked around the compartment and waited.

"Nothing is being hidden Mr Holmes, I am telling the truth."

"Prove it."

Minerva, as she was called, got up and straightened her robes before producing a long wooden stick from a side pocket.

"Expecto Patronum!" She shouted across the cabin and something shot from the end of the stick, a white shape hurtled around the cabin escorted by a blue trail of glowing light, as the shape rushed past them they saw it was a tabby cat. A perfect rendition in size, shape and detail.

"Very clever, where is the projector?"

"No projections, no tricks, no slide of hand Mr Holmes I can assure you."

"I don't believe you, I believe in science."

"I guess I will have to show you the truth Mr Holmes." She leant onto the desk and towards Sherlock, his eyes widened as she suddenly started to shrink. Within the blink of an eye her hands had become paws and her skin turned to fur and a tabby cat stood before them on the table. The cat walked over to Sherlock and placed a paw on his chest, making him flinch.

The cat turned to look at John and John scrabbled back into his seat, nearly falling out the side of the booth in fright.

"Sherlock, the cat, Sherlock. Sherlock it has spectacle markings round its eyes like the woman. Sherlock the woman became a cat." He frantically grasped at words, becoming breathless as he clutched the seat with all his might.

Sherlock sat there, staring in silence.

"Sherlock, say something please god say something. Tell me this isn't happening."

Silence.

The cat took its paw off of Sherlock's chest and purred, making little 'hick hick' sounds as it did. It sounded amused, _can a cat sound amused?_ Thought John.

The cat then leapt of the table and with a ruffle of a cloak it had transformed back into the woman, she smoothed down her clothes and slid back onto the seat opposite them.

"Do you need anymore convincing gentlemen?" She smirked as she viewed them both over her glasses. John shook his head frantically, still clutching at the seat.

"Mr Holmes? Mr Holmes are you alright?"

"I… I think you broke him Professor." John stuttered as he looked at his friend with concern. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" He shook Sherlock's shoulder and nothing happened.

"Is he going to be ok Doctor Watson?"

"John… John is um, fine. I hope so, I have only ever seen him like this once before but it didn't last this long. He sort of hides in his mind when something changes his perception."

"Well John I do hope he surfaces soon as we have a case to discuss."

At the mention of the case Sherlock suddenly gasped a deep breath.

"Oh my god Sherlock you weren't breathing!" John cried out.

"I, no I guess I wasn't."

"Are you ok?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sherlock…"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it, now, tell me about this case."

Minerva peered over her glasses at Sherlock before taking a deep breath.

"Well, Mr Holmes... How to begin, our world is a closely guarded secret to muggles." John looked quizzically at her. "Non magical people John." John nodded as if he completely understood and Sherlock had to yet again roll his eyes. "The wizarding world is consisted of 3 types of people. Pureblood wizards, families who have been wizards for generations and can trace their ancestry back as far as they can be traced. Then there are half bloods, children of pureblood wizards and witches who have married muggles. And then there are muggle-born, children of non magical ancestry who show magical talents. Magic is shown at a young age, it is uncontrolled and usually due to emotional outbursts, such as setting fire to things or making things move. Whenever magic is performed by people under the age of 17, a 'trace' picks it up and alerts our authorities, the Ministry of Magic. We then reveal our world to them on their 11th birthday with an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School. Children of wizarding ancestry, on one side or both, usually know about magic before hand, but for muggle children it can be very troubling. That is why we have the school, we are one of 3 in Europe alone, all boarding schools for young witches and wizards."

"And what does this have to do with the case?" Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table impatiently.

"I figured you could with an explanation Mr Holmes." He stared at her, the drumming getting louder.

"We have a wizarding prison, the most high security prison in Europe and probably the world, an unmapped island called Azkaban. That is where the mass murderer Sirius Black escaped from." As she went on to describe the prison and its workings, and then onto why Black was captured John and Sherlock sat very still. Sherlock still had a couple of fingers raised ready to drum, but was so intent on the story they stayed still.

"Once upon a time I would not have believed in arch enemies and global domination just because you're a raving psychopath, but being with Sherlock has taught me better. Moriarty was nothing compared to this Lord Voldymort person."

"Lord Vol-de-mort John. Translated literally from French it means 'Flight of Death', where as if you translate Moriarty's name from Latin it means 'Death is Art'. I am beginning to see a trend in clever names." Sherlock trailed off as they watched the sky darken outside. It was raining slightly and they had been on the train for hours now.

"As you are going to be at our school, we will have robes for you and jobs so you can do your investigations in peace. Mr Holmes, you will be filling in for our Defence against the Dark Arts teacher when he is unavailable and the two of you will be teaching Muggle Studies until such times as the case is solved, if of course you are able to do so."

"And how pray tell do you expect us to teach something in a magical school?" John said with a sceptical edge to his voice.

"Lesson plans have been made for you by our usual teacher and you will have help if you need it at any time from the other Professors and our Headmaster. It is why we chose Muggle Studies, who better to teach it than muggles. We do not want anyone to know why you are here this year, it could jeopardise everything."

"You say you have muggl- normal children here, what if one of them recognises Sherlock?"

"We are prepared for that, you will be announced Sherlock, as you are a famous detective people will know you, but as an ex student, you will both be sorted upon arrival into your houses and we shall go from there."

Before either could speak again the train suddenly lurched to a halt.

"Oh dear, I was afraid this would happen." Minerva whispered.

"What? What would happen?" John looked around uncertainly as the candles flickered and died.

"The guards of Azkaban are here, as I told you they are protecting the school, but I didn't expect them to search the trains!" She stood up and went to the compartment door and peered out when a scream rang out.

Sherlock and John both leapt up as Minerva flung the door open and hurried through it, they followed her billowing cloak through the aisle of the train as she told each student to lock the doors to their compartments and stay put. Any students she found out of the compartments she ushered back inside and continued to search for the source of the scream.

At the end of two carriages she found a young girl on the floor, white as a sheet. She helped her up and put her in a compartment after being told whatever it was had gone into the next carriage. John leant up against the window as they waited to go into the next carriage and immediately jumped backwards, knocking into Sherlock and slamming him into a student filled compartment and making them all scream.

"John whatever was that for!"

"There's something outside!" He exclaimed and pointed a shaking finger at the window. Sherlock pushed past him and looked outside, pressing his nose up against the glass. Almost immediately he flew backwards as a black figure flew past, ice crept across the windows as it disappeared into the gloom and Sherlock raised a finger to it.

"Was that a Dementor?"

Minerva nodded and hurried through into the next carriage without waiting for them, they both followed anxiously and as soon as had they stepped through the second set of doors the windows turned to sheets of ice. John fell back against the side of the aisle and held onto the window sill as his breathing became heavy. Sherlock looked back and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

A white light lit up the entire carriage as a black cloaked figure came flying out of a compartment ahead and out the open window. John only saw a glimpse of the light before he dropped to the floor, the screams of soldiers and civilians filled his head as gunshots ripped through his thoughts before they went black.

Sherlock watched in complete confusion at the scene unfolding before him. Despair and grief welled up inside him and threatened to burst out, thoughts of Redbeard and leaving John whirled in his mind and he resisted the temptation to clutch at his heart. As the darkness outside lifted slightly he realised it had been thick fog that had made everywhere suddenly become dark, not night itself. A man stood in the open compartment doorway with his wand out and looked around.

"Settle down everyone, it's gone now, back to your seats please!" He called out before nodding to Minerva and glancing over Sherlock and behind him.

"Is he alright?" He jabbed his wand by Sherlock's feet and Sherlock spun round to see John on the floor.

"John!" Sherlock ran and dropped down beside him, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. "John can you hear me wake up!"

He shook him again and patted his face until John sat up.

"So many people, so many innocent people." He blinked furiously and wiped away tears as he looked around, he touched his hand to his head and ran it through his hair as he looked around. "Why am I on the floor?"

Sherlock couldn't suppress a small smile as he pulled John to his feet. "You had me worried there for a second."

"What happened."

"You passed out, you big wimp."

"I what!"

Minerva came over to them and explained what had happened as John kept a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to steady himself.

"Did you… Feel it too?" He looked at Sherlock, his eyes still watery.

"Yes, it wasn't pleasant." Sherlock pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, trying to banish the emotions that were threatening to mutiny inside his carefully managed mind.

The compartment door opened again and the man they had seen earlier approached. He had a haggard appearance which was only enhanced by his shabby clothes and the eyes of a man suffering from severe insomnia. Sherlock looked him up and down carefully.

"Remus is everything ok?" Minerva asked as he stopped in front of them.

"Yes, young Harry had quiet a fright I am afraid, he said he heard Lily screaming." The man looked away suddenly and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hands as if fighting to keep his composure.

"Oh Remus, come along let us get back to the staff carriage now all this is over."

Once seated again Sherlock and John were introduced to Professor Remus Lupin, whom Sherlock would be covering for on certain days due to an 'illness' that no one would divulge anymore about. Soon after the sky had darkened the train finally pulled into the station nearest to the school, a little village called 'Hogsmeade' ('do you folks have a thing for boars or something' Sherlock asked when told the name) and they stepped off the train into the crisp night air.

Sherlock looked around at the students milling around him as he and John stood on the platform until a booming voice came across the open space.

"Firs' years! Firs' years to me." They looked for the sound of the voice only to be greeted with an incredulous site, a man well over 8ft tall stood in the crowd gathering students to him.

"Any relation to the Gollum?" John whispered in his ear and Sherlock sniggered quietly.

"That," Minerva snapped, "is our grounds keeper Rubeus Hagrid and he takes all first years to the castle by boat, "now if you'll follow me gentlemen our carriages await."

They followed her and Remus to a wooded area by the platform, there beautiful Victorian style carriages were lined up. Sherlock took a step back as they approached. Great skeletal horse like creatures stood harnessed to the carriages. John grabbed at his arm and they both looked at each other.

"These are Thestrals, they live in the Forbidden Forest on our grounds and can only be seen by those who have seen death." She walked over and stroked one and it clicked its, _beak?! Yes, beak,_ at her. She stood patiently beside it and waited for them to approach, Sherlock shoved John forwards and waited.

John looked back helplessly and Sherlock waved patronisingly at him. "You go first, if it eats me more people will be sad!" He called out to him.

"People will celebrate if it eats you what are you talking about!" John called back and took a cautious step towards the creature. He held out his hand and the creature sniffed it before clicking its beak and looking him over with dark liquid eyes.

Sherlock watched on until John walked over and grabbed him, roughly pushing him towards the creature.

"Now Sherlock, make friends!" He chided.

Sherlock sniffed at him before holding his hand out tentatively. The Thestral clicked at him before snapping its beak, Sherlock pulled back his hand and the beak closed over thin air where his hand had been moments before.

"Oh my god hahahahahah!" John grabbed his stomach and doubled over with laughter as Sherlock held his hand to his chest protectively.

"Positively brutish!" Sherlock sneered before turning around and pulling himself into the carriage, settling down as John climbed in very ungracefully. The carriage set off down the cleared track and Sherlock peered out of the curtained window whilst John tried to make small talk with the two professors. As they rounded a small bend Sherlock pushed on the door to the compartment and pulled himself out of it, standing on the edge of the doorway and staring in disbelief.

"Sherlock what the hell are you doing!" John stood up and went to pull him inside as Sherlock pointed in front of them. John looked up and let go of Sherlock, he nearly fell out of the carriage had it not been for Sherlock realising and grabbing his coat. Steadying himself John tried to stop his mouth from falling open at the sight before them.

A great castle rose out from the tree tops, settled atop a slight cliff face. Its towers rose up into the heavens and it loomed out of the darkness like something from a fairy tale. After a few minutes of hanging onto the side of the carriage John sat back down and pulled Sherlock with him.

"Its beautiful isn't it." Remus smiled at them both as they sat there star struck.

"A castle, the school is a bloody castle."

"Your powers of deduction amaze me John." Sherlock drawled.

"Piss off Sherlock. A bloody castle!" He exclaimed again.

"Yes gentlemen, a 'bloody castle'." She smirked and looked at Remus who was also grinning. The carriage passed through the gates and onto the grounds below the castle. Sherlock leapt out as fast as his long legs could manage and stood to face the castle, its reflection cast upon a black lake where countless boats with lanterns attached to them were cutting across the smooth surface and heading for a hole in the cliff face.

"Welcome to Hogwarts Mr Holmes." Came Minerva's voice from behind him, he let out a deep breath and continued to stare, he was, for one of the first times in his life, utterly speechless.


End file.
